


Five Times Merlin Denied Destiny and One Time He Didn't

by Medraut



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Denial, Destiny, Fluff, Humor, Love, M/M, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medraut/pseuds/Medraut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin finds a shopping list, then another, and all of a sudden it seems destiny wants what it wants even if Merlin is being deliberately obtuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Merlin Denied Destiny and One Time He Didn't

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic first came about when my mind decided shopping lists would be a fun way for destiny to come about. Then came the costumes, the attempt at humour, and a drabble that turned into a full one-shot. My biggest problem is endings, but please bear with me.  
> On another note I can't believe my first fic in this fandom is a Merthur when I ship Merlin and Mordred like it's nobody's business, yet here I am.
> 
> Please enjoy!  
> * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first time it happened, Merlin tripped over a rubbish bin - which he would have noticed had he not been in a fierce debate with his mother about how lonely he was not thank-you-very-much. As it was, he did not see it until it was too late and he was lying in a heap of banana peels, rotting kebab and gods knew what other unseemly stuff, and Merlin was almost too busy getting unmentionable things out of his underwear to see The Note. Almost. But see it, he did, and when he read it, he inexplicably felt his breath hitch in his throat. It shouldn't have been all that spectacular, it was just a shopping list after all, but it was completely identical to the one he was sure was still safely tucked away in his back-pocket and it could not be a coincidence. Or could it? The alternative to coincidence was destiny or fate or whatever fancy name people had for it, meaning it was not an alternative at all. Which was why Merlin hastily picked himself off the ground and tucked the list into the pocket of his jacket where it would be forgotten until the next time.  
It took three showers to get rid of the smell.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The second time it happened, Merlin was running around his flat trying to find his best shirt somewhere in the chaos that was his wardrobe when his doorbell rang, forcing him to put on the cleanest shirt in his vicinity, which wasn't very clean at all after having been used for three consecutive days, and greeting his uninvited guest. His mother hugged him before he had even managed to get her inside and asked why he wasn't answering her calls, and had he been working out or was he wearing his dirty laundry again? Merlin argued that last time had been at thirteen when his mother had gone on a business-trip and forgotten he didn't know how to work the washing machine, to which she replied that it was hardly her fault that he'd never thought to ask. Which was true enough. Before she could start to gloat, though, Merlin remembered the reason he'd been in a rush and promptly told his mum to make herself at home, he'd be back in a few hours, and left her there looking confused.

When Merlin got to Gwen's place half an hour late, he had barely even touched the door before he was pulled into a crushing hug and then dragged over to meet Gwen's boyfriend Lancelot whom she had apparently been dating for two months now, which did baffle Merlin just a bit since he usually met Gwen's boyfriends after at most one month and she hadn't seemed even half as taken with them as she was with Lancelot. And they definitely hadn't looked at Gwen the way Lancelot did, eyes full of wonder and reverence that this girl was with him. Of course, those looks also meant that Merlin was just a silent third wheel throughout dinner and he had the uncomfortable feeling they would be going at it like rabbits the moment he left. Not to mention that his throat tightened whenever he saw their lingering touches and secretive smiles. He knew his mum would say it was loneliness, but he was obviously just disgusted with how much they were all over each other. 

Dinner eaten, Merlin excused himself and was in the middle of putting on his shoes when he saw it. A shopping list. A shopping list identical to the one he'd written just that morning, even the handwriting was a perfect imitation of his own. His first thought was that it must be a coincidence. His second thought was of the other shopping list he'd found a month back. His third thought was not so much a thought as a desperate scramble to get to his feet and shove the list in Gwen's face, yelling “Where did you get this?!” startling both Gwen and Lancelot (both of whom had been staring into each others eyes - again). Yes, that was definitely disgust he felt. 

“I- I don't know,” Gwen answered with wide eyes “It's not mine.”

Merlin would have accused her of lying if he didn't know Gwen never lied, at least not about important things. Instead, he loudly pronounced that if it wasn't hers, he was taking it, shoved it into his pocket, said goodbye to Gwen and Lancelot, and left them staring after him in concern.  
Well onto the street, he realised why Gwen didn't know about the other list, why he hadn't known about Lancelot, and why his mother thought he was ignoring her calls. He'd lost his phone! And yes, he did work with Gwen so she could have told him sooner, but for some reason they always talked about relationships over the phone. And yes, he should have realised his phone was missing sooner, but it was not like anyone ever went to all that much trouble to talk to him. And no, just because he only had his mother, Gwaine, and Gwen, did not mean he was lonely.  
He was fine.  
When he got home it was to find his mother on the other side of the door glancing at him in disapproval. Had she not seen something on his face, he would most likely have gotten a severe tongue-lashing, but she was not his mother for nothing and instead, she sat him down on the sofa and forced him to tell her everything about the two shopping lists, the disgust he felt when he saw Gwen and Lance, and how he had gone a whole month before realising he'd lost his phone.  
She also made him admit that maybe he was just a bit lonely.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The third time it happened, Merlin had spent days alternating between wanting to tear the lists to pieces and wanting to find whoever had written them in case it was his soul mate or some such nonsense, which he did not believe in. He had worked himself into such a state obsessing over the lists that Gwaine, who was never serious, had forced him to talk, only to then tease him mercilessly. Surprisingly, the teasing had helped him a lot, and he barely thought about the lists anymore. Except for whenever he got lost in thoughts, which was quite often, but no one had to know that.  
Because Merlin didn't think about the lists quite so often, he got a very big shock when he was sitting in a small café with Gwaine and Gwaine's friend Mithian, and he looked at the table to see a list that hadn't been there before. Could it be? He sucked in a breath, felt his heart speed up a little in anticipation and then moved closer to the small piece of paper so he could read it properly. His heart sank. Not a single item on the supposed shopping list was even close to the items on the one he'd written for the day (and perhaps he should stop writing lists if he kept remembering exactly what he needed to buy), and the handwriting bore only a vague resemblance to his own. Merlin glared at Gwaine and Mithian who had both collapsed into giggles.

“This isn't even funny, you prick!” He yelled and got up from his chair.

“Sorry, mate,” Gwaine said, trying to stop his laughter “You've just been so morose lately and when I told Mithian, she suggested we cheer you up a bit.”

Merlin took a deep breath and sat down again, only to be forced up the next moment when his cappuccino was ready and his name was called. Gwaine meant well, he told himself. Just let it go. He had to admit he was being a bit silly about the whole thing; even if he did believe in destiny, he wouldn't believe it worked through bloody shopping lists. Having convinced himself of this, he stretched out his arm to take his hot beverage, but froze in place when he saw an actual shopping list lying right in front of his cup. A shopping list that, once again, was an exact copy of his own shopping list. He left his cup where it was, pushed aside the person who was ordering a drink, and demanded the barista tell him where the list had come from.

“Well,” She said and tapped her pen to her chin in thought “There was a blond gentleman here not five minutes ago, but I'm afraid I just saw him leave.”

Merlin ran to the door, tore it open, and looked in every possible direction to see if he could spot this 'blond gentleman' the barista had mentioned. He could see blond children, blond teenagers, and even a few blond adults, but no one wearing a suit, which he expected a 'gentleman' would. Then he spotted it, just a short glimpse at the same time as the man turned a corner some 500 feet away. Merlin gave chase as fast as he could, faintly registering Gwaine calling out for him, but only focusing on finding the owner of the lists that had taken up so much of his waking time. But when he finally turned the corner himself, the man was gone, and all Merlin could do was sink to the ground in pure frustration. His mouth tasted metallic, he would faint if he didn't catch his breath soon, his side hurt like nothing else and he thought he should start exercising soon. But more than anything, he cursed whatever power in the universe that was enjoying messing with his head.

“God-fucking-dammit!” He yelled out and winced at how raw his voice sounded.

“God has nothing to do with it,” came a voice from a darkened street corner – and did that man have golden eyes or was Merlin losing it?

“Sorry?” Merlin said, caught off guard.

“Destiny cannot be rushed, young Merlin,” said the man, and Merlin must have gone barmy if he was talking to a stranger who knew his name. Or he had a stalker. “It will have its way in its own time. Just know that the fates do not keep people waiting in vain.”

“I'm not sure I understand...” Merlin trailed off uncertainly.

“As you shouldn't. It is not time yet. Your destiny will find you soon enough,” The man stated, and Merlin would be very happy if this apparition would stop smirking at him.

“Look, I don't know who you think you are, but I don't even believe in desti-” He cut himself off when he blinked and found that the man was now gone. Yup, he'd turned into a raving lunatic. 

When Gwaine and Mithian found him sitting on the ground smiling to himself and mumbling about how he definitely didn't believe in destiny – and who had golden eyes anyway? – they decided Merlin probably needed a lot of sleep and therefore dragged him home and put him to bed.  
He slept with the list curled in his hand, finding comfort in the destiny he denied. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The fourth time was at a Halloween party at what was now Gwen and Lancelot's flat. Merlin had, originally, wanted to dress up as his namesake simply to have a laugh at his own expense and because magic was cool. He had not expected to forget about the party until the very same day and therefore get forced to buy whatever costume they had left, leaving him to dress up as a pencil of all the things in the world. Gwen, however, who knew how scatterbrained he occasionally was, didn't blink an eye at his costume. The same could not be said of the man on the sofa who loudly made fun of Merlin. And really, as if the man had any room to talk when he himself was dressed up as a piece of paper that he loudly proclaimed was a shopping list.

“Did Gwaine put you up to this then?” asked Merlin before he realised the man was, in fact, deadly serious about his costume. 

“No,” Was the answer he got “I simply lost a bet to my sister. Well, she claims I lost. It doesn't matter either way; you're a walking pencil with big ears, you're hardly one to talk.”  
Ah, so the man was a sore loser, his costume seemed to be a sensitive topic, and he was a major bully who had a compulsion to criticise every part of Merlin's appearance. If the man hadn't been Gwen's friend, Merlin would have given a very scathing response, but for the first time in his life he found himself making a 'hmm' sound and then leaving the man standing there while he traced down some alcohol. He was not drunk enough to deal with this. Which, since the universe was set on driving him to his wits end, was most likely the reason why the man followed him.

“Hey! You can't just walk away when I'm talking to you, it's very rude!”

“Yes, and I care very much about whether I'm rude to bullies.”

“Bullies?” the man looked like he'd never heard such an accusation in his life. 

“Obviously. First you laugh at my costume, then you talk about yourself as if you're some sort of god and then you move on to making fun of my ears. I'd say that qualifies as bullying.” Merlin crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow the way his uncle had taught him. The man crossed his arms.

“I'd hardly call that bullying. Have you ever considered that you might just be too sensitive?”

“I don't know, have you ever considered that you might just be a giant prat?” Merlin countered.

“A prat? That's the best you could come up with?” 

“Is his highness not satisfied with his title? Would he perhaps prefer being called a clotpole?” 

At this the man laughed loudly. “A clotpole? You really are an idiot, aren't you?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. Why was he even engaging with this man? He turned and was about to walk away, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He tensed.

“Hey, don't leave,” the man said in his obnoxiously posh accent “It really was just a bit of friendly teasing, surely you're not going to walk around with your knickers in a twist for the rest of the evening?”

“Hardly,” Merlin answered, “I just don't want to spend the rest of the evening anywhere near you.” 

And with that he tore himself from the man's grip and stalked to the other end of the flat where he could sulk in peace. Or so he'd thought. Half an hour later he was pressed against a wall with a guy dressed as a Roman – name unimportant - pressed against him, and a tongue down his throat. Not the most glamorous situation, but sure as hell effective when it came to forgetting about stupid clotpoles. He even got a number scribbled on a random piece of paper when the party ended. All in all, the evening had been quite fun and Merlin made his way home humming to himself whilst grinning like a lunatic. Of course, his good mood only lasted until the next morning when he wanted to call the Roman guy, but discovered the number had been written on an infuriatingly familiar shopping list.  
He really should have started expecting this by now.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The fifth time it happened, Merlin was convinced his life had turned into a soap opera. He had got out of bed earlier than usual only to find that there was no food left in his fridge, unless you counted the questionable substance in the container on the third shelf, which he didn't. Therefore, Merlin sat down to write a shopping list, something he had done his utmost to avoid ever since the party. This time he had a plan to thwart whatever 'destiny' wanted however; he wrote down fifty different items, thereby believing himself to have made it impossible for anyone to duplicate his list. He then left his flat with a rumbling stomach and the hope that he had put a stop to the lists once and for all.  
His hopefulness lasted as long as it took him to gather each item from his list and move halfway towards the queue, at which point he saw the back of the 'blond gentleman', cursed the universe, and hurried towards said man. What he should have learnt a long time ago (after the incident with the racoon) was that trolleys are very hard to stop once you get them moving at a decent speed, and so he found himself only managing to steer the trolley off course at the last moment before colliding with the man, knocking them both to the floor in a tangle of limbs. 

“Shit, I'm so sorry” Merlin got out once he'd slightly gathered his breath again.

“Sorry? What on Earth were you thinking running like that! You could have killed someone! You could have killed me!” 

“I know,” Merlin said contritely, getting off the floor again and trying his best to help the man up too, “I really am sorry.” 

“You bloody well should be, you oaf!” The man shouted, at last getting to his feet and turning around, letting Merlin get a good look at his face.

“You!” He shouted accusingly, realising that yes, this was indeed the man from Halloween. “You know what, I take it back, I don't think I'm all that sorry after all!” 

The man looked vaguely confused for a moment before he apparently placed Merlin's face too. 

“Well, you should be, you clumsy idiot.” He answered. Merlin almost laughed at the lousy comeback. Almost being the keyword considering his less-than-mature answer:

“Well, I'm not.”

Merlin then made to leave, but like an echo from the party, his shoulder was grabbed by the man, although they were face to face this time. The man took a deep breath.

“Look,” he rubbed his neck “I'm... I know I don't make the best first impression, especially when I've had a bit too much to drink but I-” He faltered and looked almost worryingly lost.

“But you what?” Merlin prompted softly. The man cleared his throat and continued.

“I truly didn't mean to offend you at the party, although you certainly could say you just got your revenge.” Their eyes met for a moment, challenging and intense and Merlin's stomach flipped. “What I'm trying to say is that I think we're even now.” 

The phrasing was horrible and had the situation been different, Merlin might have laughed. Merlin was a decent person though, and instead he stuck out his hand.

“Then perhaps we should start over,” he said and the man eyed his hand gratefully for a moment before grabbing it.

“I'm Arthur” he said, and that figured didn't it? Of course this whole destiny business would lead Merlin to a man named Arthur. Of bloody course.

“Merlin.”

“Merlin?” Arthur's lip twitched in mirth.

“Go ahead,” Sighed Merlin, long-suffering as he was, “There's nothing you can say I haven't heard before. Parents, magic, etcetera etcetera.” 

Arthur smirked. “What about destiny?”

“There's no such thing as destiny.” Merlin answered. Then they both dropped their shopping lists at the same time. 

“Let me,” Arthur said and bent down to pick them up. He looked at the lists, did a double take, then burst out “They're identical!”

“I know.” Merlin said miserably.

Arthur stared.

“Apparently you keep writing the same lists as me and leaving them all over the place. It's been driving me nuts.” He explained, searching his pockets for all the previous shopping lists, shoving them at Arthur to see for himself. Arthur took a few minutes to compare the little pieces of paper himself before giving Merlin a thorough once over, smirk bigger than ever.

“What was that about destiny?”

Merlin still insisted he was right.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the end, Merlin acknowledged destiny might be a real thing, and this was what the first time was like:

They were going to Gwen and Lancelot's flat for dinner with all of their mutual friends – and how on Earth had they not met years earlier? - when they realised their friends didn't know Merlin and Arthur were... well, whatever they were. Sure, it had taken all of fifteen minutes from their first meeting before Merlin and Arthur were snogging like there was no tomorrow, but two months later they were still not officially a couple. The reason, of course, was that they were both stubborn idiots who had to be right all the time. Arthur was waiting for Merlin to call it 'destiny', while Merlin was waiting for Arthur to talk about feelings for what would most likely be the first time in his life. Neither was succeeding in his endeavour, but whether they put words to it or not, Merlin still put his hands in Arthur's pocket when he was cold, Arthur still did Merlin's laundry, and they were both very aware that Arthur had practically moved in. They were not a couple though. 

So when the realisation dawned on both of them that their friends were unaware, they awkwardly avoided the topic any way they could. And that 'any way' meant that Merlin became twice as clumsy as usual (tripping over his own toes among other things) whilst Arthur mocked him every chance he got before kissing it better. When evening came and they left the flat, Merlin was wearing plasters on three different fingers, had scraped a knee, nearly twisted his ankle, and had hit his head on the coffee table. Every time Arthur caught sight of the injuries, he threw Merlin a fond look.  
However they managed it, they did indeed avoid talking up until they were ushered into Gwen and Lance's flat by Gwaine who had too many questions for anyone's own good. 

“I didn't know you two knew each other!” He exclaimed, throwing an arm around Merlin and Arthur respectively. They both shrugged him off. 

“Well we do.” Arthur said.

“Wait. Did you shag each other?” Gwaine asked, loudly enough to draw the attention of the rest of their group. Merlin blushed. Gwaine was delighted. “You did!” 

“Oh, Merlin, I'm so glad you're not alone any more.” Gwen squealed, breaking the silence that had followed Gwaine's announcement. 

“I- We- Not really, I mean-” Merlin stuttered, unsure.

Gwen's face fell, but Arthur broke in, “I think this is a story better told over some food.” He smiled politely at Gwen, then gave Merlin a wicked grin. “In any case, I think it's time you understand that I'm right and you're not.” Merlin rolled his eyes. 

During dinner, they told their respective stories of the events that led up to their meeting at Tesco's, interrupted at times by the various inputs from Gwaine and Mithian who had seen Merlin's obsession with The Lists first-hand, but even they fell silent toward the end of the tale, and Merlin was smug that he had at last rendered his friends gobsmacked. He wasn't quite as smug when Gwen started arguing that they must have exaggerated in their heads and Lancelot said people would always see what they wanted to see.

“Oi, just because you don't believe in something doesn't mean it isn't real!” He yelled, then cringed at the volume of his own voice. “After all, it must have been destiny. There's no other reason I would have put up with this prat for so long. And if nothing else, just look at our names. We're Arthur and Merlin.” He smiled softly at Arthur. “Of course we're destined for each other.” 

A year later, Arthur revealed that he'd asked Gwen and Lancelot to say what they did because he had known it would provoke Merlin.  
Merlin hit him over the head with a pillow.


End file.
